Harvestfest
by Lydia2
Summary: As Frodo is returning from a camping trip he runs into problems that delay his arrival at the Harvest feast in Buckland


This is my response to the challenge made to me by vreader. I am not sure how well I would do with food descriptions, so this is mainly about what could delay a hobbit from coming to a feast. Enjoy! And please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Middle Earth or anyone therein. This is slightly AU but I'm not telling you how. Read for yourself.

Frodo Baggins was beginning to worry. He had gone out on one of his usual walks into the far reaches of the Shire and beyond. Not too far beyond, of course, but west into the unsettled regions of the Far Downs, north to Lake Evendim, and south to the foot hills of the Blue Mountains. He never dared to go east past Buckland, though. That direction held the terrifying adventures of Bilbo's tales, and he wasn't ready for that. Privately, he thought he would never be ready. This time he had gone north, and camped on the shore of Lake Evendim for a week.

He had had beautiful weather during his stay, and had done some swimming. He loved water but never quite dared to swim except in Buckland and on his solitary journeys for fear of what the neighbors would say. That was mainly because the Gaffer would probably forbid Sam his company.

Now though, a storm was blowing up, forcing him to forgo travel until it passed, and this was a major problem, because the harvest feast was coming up, and he had promised to go to Buckland. The time he had originally given himself would have allowed him time to return home, rest a day, and go at a leisurely pace to Buckland to see his cousin Merry and join in the feast celebrating the end of gathering the crops in for the year.

The clouds gathered swiftly overhead as Frodo searched through the small forest by the lake. He was hoping for an abandoned burrow of some animal under a tree where he would be safe from the storm. As he looked about frantically, he thought he heard a low growl from somewhere behind him. The hobbit glanced back into the growing gloom of the combined clouds and evergreen tree shadows. Peering hard, he was able to catch sight of a pair of yellow eyes under the low branches of a tree several yards away, far too close.

Trying not to panic, Frodo abandoned his search and instead began to run toward the hidden sun in the east, hoping to outdistance whatever wild animal had targeted him. He was fast for a hobbit, but the animal was far swifter. Frodo's breath began to fail, and his lungs cramped. The air was chill and damp, not good for running any speed or distance. He threw a fast glance behind him and saw the creature gaining on him and recognized it. It was not one he had actually seen before, but there was a picture of a bobcat in one of Bilbo's books. 

Just as he thought he was about to become a swift meal, there was a whistling noise overhead, and Frodo threw himself to the ground. Just as he did, the bobcat leaped toward him and was straight in the path of the arrow that had been released by some hidden figure up ahead. The body of the dead animal landed on the hobbit's back, and Frodo let out a yell of terror, before realizing that it was dead. He could not move, though, the bobcat weighed at least as much as he did, and he could not squirm out from under it. A moment later, the weight was gone, much to his startlement. 

He rolled over onto his back and gazed up at his rescuer. It was a man, wearing a long hooded cloak and carrying a sword and a bow and quiver. Frodo was silent for a long, shocked moment and then said without thinking, "Mae Govannen. Hanta le." He stopped then and flushed. He had been practicing his elvish all week and the sight of the tall figure momentarily put him in mind of the elves he had seen once or twice.

The man was startled too. The last thing he had expected was to be greeted in fluent elvish. "You're welcome." He replied in the same language. He glanced up at the sky. Any more courtesy would have to wait. The storm was about to break. Reaching out a hand, he pulled the small figure to his feet and said, "Come with me, quickly!" He led the hobbit at a fast pace toward the mostly abandoned city of Annúminas, arriving just as the rain began to fall. 

Many of the buildings were in ruin, but there were some in good repair, used by the Rangers of the North in times of need. Frodo looked about him in awe at the ancient building around him. Then he remembered that he had an audience, and turned toward the man, bowing. "I thank you." He said, this time in Westron. 

The man nodded back. "It was my pleasure. Yet how is it that you know the language of the elves?" Now it was his turn to stop and blush. "I beg your pardon. Would you like to sit down and rest? You may call me Strider."

Frodo smiled at his rescuer. "I am called Frodo Baggins. I will accept a seat gladly." He shrugged out of his pack stiffly and dropped down beside the fireplace. There was no fire going as yet, but it was laid, and even as he sat, Strider struck a spark with his dagger and lit it. The man then sprawled out opposite to him. The room was sparsely furnished, but there was a thick rug before the hearth, and it was very comfortable.

Strider spoke again, "Baggins. I seem to recall that name from somewhere in the misty past. I remember a hobbit coming through Imladris when I was about ten and that was his name."

"You have met Bilbo?" exclaimed Frodo.

"Yes, that was the name." Aragorn replied.

"He is my cousin. He it was that taught me Elvish." Frodo told him. He has gone back to Imladris only a few years agone. So you have been to the Last Homely Home?"

"Indeed, for it was my home in my growing years. I lived as the foster-son of Lord Elrond." Strider told him.

They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the fury of the storm. Then Frodo sighed. "I hope this weather does not last, for my cousins will miss me if I am late to the feast. But how is it that you are here, Master Strider? So near to the Shire, I mean."

Strider frowned thoughtfully. "As to your making it home, this storm should blow over by tomorrow. I am here as a favor to a very pushy old friend of mine. I am a Ranger, and the old Grey One asked me and my kinsmen to shelter these borders of what was Eriador, and protect those who dwell within."

Frodo started in surprise. "Grey One? A very pushy old man with a talent for convincing people to do what is danger by means of riddles?" He chuckled softly, and was answered by a louder chuckle from outside of the closed door.

"Pushy am I? Yet would you have dared say so to my face?" came a grumbling voice. "Would you now grant me entrance, my friends?"

"Mithrandir!"

"Gandalf!"

Cried the companions together.

"Yes, it is I." Said Gandalf. "Might I have shelter therefore?"

Strider winked at the hobbit. "Why should we let in an old scoundrel like yourself? We would not be safe." 

Frodo stared at him in surprise and then grinned back. "Aye. You would have us chasing dragons within moments." He got up, though, and went to unbar the door. Gandalf ducked in, and helped close the heavy wooden door against the wind. He was a bit wet, but otherwise looked the same as always. 

The wizard smiled down at him and then looked at the man, who was now sitting up. "What a surprise to see you here." He said, not sounding at all surprised. 

Aragorn grinned, "Of course you are surprised, mellon nin. It was only you who sent me to patrol the Shire, and who, in fact, suggested that we repair this city better for shelter against the weather."

Gandalf chuckled again. "Well, if you want to put it that way…So how goes it A-Strider? And how came you to meet young Frodo?"

The hobbit frowned slightly at the stutter of Gandalf saying the man's name but did not comment. He knew perfectly well that the wizard would tell him only what he wanted to tell him, and would deflect any other questions. "I was heading back to Hobbiton when I was attacked by a bobcat. Strider shot it and then brought me here out of the rain." He went back over to his pack to sit down again, with Gandalf following.

The three sat a while longer before the fire. Suddenly Frodo's stomach growled and was answered by Strider's. The hobbit blushed and then opened his pack, pulling out the provisions he had left which were intended for the day's walk. These he shared around with Strider and Gandalf, keeping a third for himself. Strider in turn got out a bottle of wine from a cupboard and the three handed it around as they ate. 

It was around noon then, but Frodo was suddenly exhausted. Gandalf noticed without any surprise and said, "Go ahead and rest if you like, my lad. You've been through an ordeal so it is no wonder you are tired."

Frodo muttered in embarrassment but got out a pillow from his pack and sprawled out full length on the carpet. Within minutes he was sound asleep, and Gandalf lay his now dry cloak over him.

"So now you have met Frodo. I am very glad, for he is the main reason I have asked you to guard the Shire. Him and his cousin before him. You have probably not seen it yet, but these hobbits have a great strength in them when they are challenged. All hobbits do, but these two in particular. Yet they are all such innocents and live in such good land that it would be a great tragedy if they were attacked by such enemies as you guard them against." Gandalf sighed a little sadly. "I fear that danger is coming toward them, and all because of a trinket." 

Aragorn raised his eyebrows at that last, but the wizard did not continue. Knowing better than to press, he changed the subject. "So what are you doing in these parts, Mithrandir?"

"I came to see my young friend here. He has become very dear to me since I first met him several years ago. He is very different from the rest of his relatives and I love him well for it."

They fell comfortably silent again for awhile and then Aragorn asked, "Have you seen my father and brothers lately?"

Gandalf smiled. "As a matter of fact, I just came from Imladris. They are doing well and asked me to send along their greetings if I happened to run across you. For now though, I suggest that you follow your new friends example and get some rest since there won't be too many things needing your attention in this weather." The sound of thunder emphasized his suggestion, and Aragorn rolled himself up in his own cloak to drop easily off to sleep as a result of long practice at getting rest whenever possible.

The wizard stoked the fire a bit more and then pulled out his pipe to while away the hours. It was nearing morning when the storm cleared. The silence woke the sleepers, who blinked away sleep to see Gandalf still staring at nothing and sucking on his cold pipe. As they sat up, he blinked back at them and then stared at his pipe thoughtfully. "Hmmm. The storm appears to have ended." He said, stating the obvious. 

They all got up to go outside and see how it looked after so much rain. Frodo was quite startled to see how long he had slept. The sky was clear and full of brilliant stars twinkling in the cold air. To the east, they were suddenly witnesses to a shower of falling stars. It was a very beautiful sight, and one that the hobbit had never seen before. As they gazed upward in awe, they were caught off guard by a sudden attack. Four bobcats sprang at them simultaneously from all directions with a growl. 

Frodo let out a cry as he saw one spring toward him. Aragorn turned, ignoring the one threatening him, to protect the hobbit. Just as he killed one, the other two landed on his back, throwing him to the ground so that he dropped the sword he held. Frodo jumped forward and caught it up in both hands. It weighed a great deal, and he barely had the strength to lift it from the ground. But fear and love can both give one great power to overcome weakness, and his gratitude to the man for saving his life twice over allowed him to swing the sword in an inelegant half-circle above Strider's back, scattering the wild animal who were about to kill him.

The sharp point of the sword slid across the chest of one and through the top of the head of the other without pause and then fell to the great at the loss of momentum. The injuries caused, however, were enough to move them, and Strider used the last of his strength to release his daggers from their wrist sheathes so Frodo would have a weapon more his size. The hobbit stooped quickly and grabbed them. One he hurled at the beast further away, and the other he used to stab the cat with the head wound. 

Gandalf had already finished off the last one and came toward him. "Are you all right?" He asked calmly.

"I'm fine, help him!" Frodo said, though he had received a few scratches before Strider had dispatched the first beast. He sat down at the Ranger's head and pulled off his cloak, which he rolled up to lay under the man's cheek. Gandalf looked down at the fallen man and then went inside for a moment, returning with Aragorn's satchel. Then he too sat on the ground.

"Would you mind retrieving those daggers and cleaning the blood from them?" he asked absently. Frodo obeyed silently, cleaning the blades on the wet grass, then doing the same for the sword. Then he went back to sit down again. Gandalf had taken some of the herbs out in the hobbit's absence, and now he was bending over the torn back. "Now carefully cut open the shirt." He commanded.

Frodo used one of the now clean daggers to slice the shirt down the middle. Now exposed to air and the graying light of approaching dawn, the wounds looked garish. Gandalf, however, didn't seem to notice. He just got out a skin of water and poured it over Strider's back. Then he daubed it dry with his own cloak. Clean, the back did not look nearly so bad, though if there had been full daylight, Frodo would have noticed that the ribs were open to air. As it was, he just sighed in relief that it was not as bad as he had thought. 

Gandalf paid no attention. Instead, he picked up one particular bag of herbs from his lap and poured some of its contents into his hand. Then he poured a bit of water into the same hand a few drops of water. He next poured a bit of another bag into his hand and mixed up the combination by stirring it with one finger. Frodo watched closely in fascination. He had never realized quite how big the wizard's hands were that he was able to use one as a bowl. Gandalf used that same finger to smear some of the poultice onto each scratch. When it was all used up, he carefully wiped his hands onto white bandages so none of the medicine would be wasted and then gestured to Frodo again.

"I am going to roll him over and lift him to sit up. I need you to then wrap these cloths around his whole body as I direct you."

Frodo nodded and took the bandages. Strider groaned as Gandalf lifted him but did not awake, much to the hobbit's concern. Frodo wrapped the long roll of bandage around and around, making sure that the medicine was on the inside and on the man's back as much as he could, to Gandalf's approval. The scratches stretched along Strider's entire torso and used the entire bandage. He tucked the end under itself and then picked up his small cloak to wrap around the man as best he could since Strider's own had many tears in it from the bobcats' claws.

Gandalf pulled Strider to his feet and put one of the man's arm's over his shoulder, wrapping his own arm around the patient's shoulders as best he could without putting pressure on the wounds. Frodo went before him carrying the medicine bag to open the door and clear his pack off the rug so there was plenty of space to lay the man down. Gandalf did so and Frodo scooted so that Strider's head lay on his lap. 

Gandalf crouched down beside them and then called out in a resonant voice, "Strider, awaken!" Strider moaned slightly but did not stir. The wizard sighed and gave a sidelong look at Frodo before calling in the same tone, "Aragorn, awake!" This time Aragorn did open his eyes. 

"Mithrandir. What is wrong?" Then he grimaced as the pain made itself known. "Oh. Are the bobcats dead then?"

Gandalf grinned down at him. "You killed one, I killed one, and Frodo killed two."

Aragorn gaped at him in surprise then looked up at the halfling. Frodo blushed magenta and turned away. Gandalf chuckled. "Indeed, he picked up your sword to wound them and then finished them off with your daggers, one of them thrown."

Frodo turned even darker red. "Well you had just saved my life, Strider. Or should I call you Aragorn?" Aragorn's eyes opened wider in shock at the name. "Aragorn…" Frodo continued, "that was the name of one of the chieftains descended from Isildur. That book had a long list of the names of the descendants who came north. Bilbo brought that book back from Imladris several years ago. He had gone off to travel after I was old enough to look after myself and when he came back, he had a bunch of books he said Elrond had loaned to him. He took it back with him when he left a couple years ago on my thirty-third birthday."

The two Big Folk looked at him in alarm as he continued. "I believe it was the last name on the list. There was Arador and then Arathorn and then Aragorn. That would make you the heir to the throne of Gondor wouldn't it, Strider?" He looked down at the face on his lap and then up at Gandalf.

Gandalf shook his head in annoyance and then placed his right hand on Frodo's head. There was a flash of red light and the hobbit fell forward. Aragorn brought his hands up quickly and caught him before his face could smash into the man's. 

Frodo opened his eyes again. "I'm sorry, Strider. My back started hurting and I must have fainted for a moment." He flushed again. 

"It is okay, Mellon Nin. Did you get scratched by the bobcats?"

"I must have but I forgot when you fell."

Aragorn sat up slowly and carefully and said, "Lay down on your stomach and let us have a look at them. But first remove your shirt so it doesn't need to be cut off like mine apparently was."

Frodo obeyed and lay down gladly. There were only a few scratches but they were deep. Aragorn picked up his satchel from where Frodo had laid it and pulled out the same herbs Gandalf had used on him. Instead of using his hand though, he pulled out a wooden bowl from the bottom of the bag and poured some water into it. Then he took out another herb, which he breathed on and dropped into the bowl. There wasn't a great deal of water in the bowl but just enough to cover the herbs, which immediately released a fresh scent into the air, distracting both the injured from their pain. Then he poured the contents onto the small back, cleansing the wounds. He poured more water into the bowl and this time added the healing herbs, which he put on the scratches.

Frodo gasped in shock and fainted, this time for real. Aragorn finished his treatment and then sat back. "What an amazing person! Did he seriously kill two bobcats by himself?"

Gandalf gazed at him seriously. "He did indeed. They had landed upon you so he used your sword though it weighs more than him. And that was the best throw I have ever seen. You wouldn't know, but hobbits can hunt by throwing stones with high accuracy at the animal's head. I have never known one to throw a dagger before though. He saved your life, my friend. I was too far away to help and was fighting off another cat as it was."

"I owe him a great deal then," Strider mused.

"No you don't," Frodo replied, "I was just discharging my own debt to you for saving me earlier twice. I still owe you for the second time."

Aragorn laughed and then winced, "Let's just call it even then, two bobcats for two and then stop counting." Frodo and Gandalf laughed too. Aragorn sprawled out on the rug on his stomach again beside the hobbit. "I am sooo sore, and I'm sure you feel the same." They drifted off to sleep again and remained in dreams until late afternoon. 

When Frodo woke, he had a strong feeling he was forgetting something. His stomach growled loudly and he remembered with horror. The feast! 

Aragorn woke when he felt the hobbit stir and caught the look on his face. "What is wrong, Frodo? Does your back hurt you?"

"No. I mean yes but that isn't what is wrong. The harvest feast begins tomorrow. I promised Merry I would come to Buckland and I don't have time now."

Aragorn thought for a moment. "Well, I can get you part way there. I have my horse a few buildings away from here and you may ride him with me for a little ways, but I don't want to get to close to the Shire or your kinsfolk would probably attack me. Hobbits are fierce creatures after all."

Frodo grinned, not taking offence. "I thank you, and I accept your offer. I should be able to arrive not too late then."

With that settled, he relaxed—and his stomach growled again. Strider laughed and got up. This time he went a different cupboard and brought some food. "This isn't nearly as good as what you shared with me, but it should at least stave off your hunger pangs." They ate companionably together, Gandalf having gone off somewhere while they were asleep. As they finished their meal, he came in the door.

"I see you are both feeling better. I have spent my time removing the carcasses of the dead beasts from the area since their presence would have attracted worse."

Aragorn nodded his thanks. "Well, would you tell me what brought you up here, Frodo? I have been meaning to ask."

Frodo gave a sly smile, "I wanted to go swimming." Aragorn blinked. "I am considered rather odd among my neighbors so when I get a chance and there is clear weather I go some place where I can practice my swimming and my elvish, which is why I greeted you in Quenya when first we met. That was the language I had been using all week to myself. Will you tell me about growing among elves?"

"Certainly," Aragorn agreed readily. "My parents died when I was a toddler and I was adopted by Elrond. His sons became as big brothers to me and they taught me a great deal."

"Such as what tricks to play on the unsuspecting," Gandalf interrupted.

Aragorn blushed but said, "True, very true. They also taught me how to fight, though, and that has proven far more useful over the years. The elves were mostly kind to me, but I knew I was not one of them. I wasn't as beautiful, as graceful or as skillful as they were at most things. I was happy though and when I was a teenager I was able to join them on hunts for game and other worse targets."

"Like orcs." Frodo said softly, remembering them from Bilbo's tales. "Is that what you protect the Shire from? Orcs and wargs and goblins?"

"Yes, among other things," Aragorn replied.

Frodo rose to his feet and bowed, "On behalf of myself and all of those unwitting of your protection, I thank you."

"It is my pleasure, and that of the rest of my kin. It is good to have a purpose, and this is a good purpose." Striving to bring things down to a lighter note, he asked, "Would you like me to sing you an elvish song?"

"That would be wonderful!" Frodo exclaimed.

They spent the rest of the evening exchanging songs and stories, with Gandalf looking on in amusement. They awoke early the next morning for the ride ahead. Aragorn took Frodo to the northeastern edge of the Shire on his horse, with Gandalf following behind at a slower pace. Aragorn made as if to leave after leaving the hobbit off and then led his horse to a copse of trees where Gandalf waited. Without having to discuss it, they set off after Frodo to be sure of his safety before finally going back north.

Frodo was not as unobservant as they thought, however. He knew he had followers and was grateful. He made up his mind to show his appreciation in a substantial way at a later date. In the meantime, he had a feast to get to. Despite the assistance riding had given him, he was still rather late for the feast. It began at noon and continued all day. He arrived at midafternoon to the great relief of Merry, who had been very worried about him. There was still plenty of food left, fortunately for the hungry traveler. 

That night he shared a room with Merry, because he smial was packed with people. "Why were you late, Frodo?" Merry asked in the quiet of the bedroom. 

Frodo's official answer had been that he ran into a slight delay. To Merry now, he gave most of the truth. "I was caught in a rainstorm after my camping trip and had to hold over a day." He said.

Merry raised an eyebrow. "Ah? And that would be the reason your back is bandaged?"

His cousin flushed darkly. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he said. "There was also a bobcat. I was rescued by someone right before the rain hit and he took me somewhere for shelter. Then when I was going to leave after it cleared, some more attacked and we were both injured so I had to stay over another day."

"I suppose I won't get anything else out of you will I? Well, I'm glad you are safe."

"Oh, yes. We are all safe." Frodo's voice died off as he drifted asleep.

__

Well, that's news to me, thought Merry, as he followed the older hobbit's example.

Months later, when spring came, Frodo Baggins went north again, bearing a bottle of ale and one of wine. These he took to Annúminas, to the building he had spent two days in the previous fall. He did not see anyone while he was there, but he put his offerings into the back of the cupboard that had wine already in it along with a note of thanks to Strider, written in Elvish.

His gift was not discovered until he had gone over the sea and Elessar made a visit to Annúminas. But that is another story.

A/N Yes, I am writing that story, which will be a sequel to "A King's Compassion." It will be up eventually, I hope.


End file.
